Issues // H.S. // A.U.

Chapter Twenty-one

He doesn't see me, thank god, most of my body blocked by Harry, but my eyes are glued to his figure. The reaction it causes my body is one I haven't felt in a long time. It was like I was back in that bedroom, shaking under the covers.

My body is moved for me, Harry's hands moving to my arms and backing me up. No longer is he in my view, now obstructed by Harry's curious gaze.

"Dani?" He asks, wondering what changed so quickly.

I swallow down my fear, shaking my head as I look up at him, trying to form some type of sentence. My breathing sped up in tiny increments, me trying to control it, but I'm also trying to make the room not spin anymore. There's too much going on.

Why is he here?

"Dani, talk to me." Harry's steady voice breaks past the sound barrier that suddenly erected itself, the music going silent around us. I felt his hand on my cheek, and the worry in his eyes intensify. "It's me. C'mon, baby girl, talk to me."

I close my eyes at his pet name for me, shaking my head, trying to gather some form of a thought. "Uh, I-" I struggle, his hand gripping my face tighter. "I don't feel good."

It was true. I didn't. I felt queasy and dizzy, my palms sweaty, and the air was too stuffy in here. I turn around immediately, squeezing through the crowd to find a door out of this house. I pause when I'm free of the horde of drunk students, swaying a bit until I feel Harry's arm around my waist.

"I've got you, Dani." He whispers in my ear, leading me through the house. He brings us to a sliding glass door, pulling it open for me to stumble out of.

Thankfully, no one's outside, seeing as it is December, but I rush down the steps, and heave into some bushes. My hand clenches at the railing, and I vaguely feel Harry pulling back my hair. I puke up my dinner and the small bit of alcohol I consumed tonight.  It doesn't make me feel better, though. I'm still shaky and the world is still spinning, and he is still inside.

I close my eyes, because I can't focus enough on anything, but then I see his image in the darkness, his outline against an open doorframe, so I force my eyes back open. Coughing, I start to straighten up, but when I sway too much, Harry pulls me to sit on the cold wood steps of the porch. I rest my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, wiping away the tears caused by throwing up. I sniffle then try to focus on my breathing. Harry's hand steadies me, large on the back of my neck, grounding me to earth with him. I feel his eyes burning into the side of my face, but just shake my head.

Clint looks older, but exactly the same. He had the same walk and lazy smile that made it easy to trust him. His hair was more styled, and he grew into his body, now wide and strong looking.

I hadn't seen him since I was thirteen, the day I was taken out of that house.

Why was he here?

I vividly remember tracking him down online one night in high school to see where he was going to college. He had moved states away, and that was one of the reasons I felt safe staying here. I heaved again, but nothing came out, my stomach completely empty. I breathe in roughly through my nose, acid stinging in my throat.

I don't know how long we stay out here, but Harry doesn't complain once. When I look calm enough, he pulls me into his body, tucking my head under his chin. His warmth and the pressure of his arm pulling me into his body dragged me back to reality, albeit slowly. It was literally like he was holding me together, my body threatening to fall to pieces without him.

Suddenly, I feel so entirely indebted to him. Without him I would've spiraled. No way could I have handled tonight without Harry. I would never have even made it out of the house, probably passing out in hallway somewhere making myself even more vulnerable.